


The Lion and the Maiden Fair

by Queen_of_Stormwind



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-11-28 03:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_Stormwind/pseuds/Queen_of_Stormwind
Summary: In the midst of a war-torn Azeroth, the King of Stormwind hesitantly agrees to take a bit of rest and relaxation at the behest of his Aunt Jaina. Anduin Wrynn is about to have a meeting he once thought was impossible.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

Anduin Llane Wrynn slumped backwards into the richly-upholstered chair in a fashion that could be considered undignified for a king. After a long day, he was finally alone with his thoughts; Anduin had been behind closed doors with his advisors since before the sun rose. Now, that very same sun was high in the sky and starting to sink to into the west. The young king looked around his generously-appointed, lavish quarters at the Norwington Estate in Kul Tiras. The walls were covered with panels of rich brown wood. The craftmanship of the dark golden-colored wood furniture was no less exquisite. Maps of Kul Tiras and Zandalar lay scattered across the desktop. Stacked documents awaiting his signature and seal rested nearby upon the right side of the desk.

Anduin sighed from exhaustion. He withdrew a hastily-sketched drawing of a young woman from his pocket and gazed at it. Valeera Sanguinar had completed the portrait at his behest a year prior. The woman might have been considered beautiful except for the rather large, bulbous nose. Not that a little thing like an unshapely nose mattered much to Anduin. He'd grown rather intrigued by the mind behind their three years of correspondence. It seemed like almost a lifetime ago that he had sent out a letter to one Lady Damara Davinière, expressing his most heartfelt condolences for the death of Lady Deirdre Corbray: Kul Tiran exile, friend and confidant of Jaina Proudmoore and the Wrynn family.

Anduin had never expected a response to his communique, however the first letter was filled with anger at the deceased; anger at a mother who had tried and failed to wrest her daughter from the hands of a monster. Over time, the anger faded and questions were asked. What was her mother like in manner and personality? Was Deirdre the traitor her father had made her out to be?

Then came the mutual exchange of ideas and dreams. Despite their differences on delicate matters, Anduin and Damara shared many of the same ideals. They had even bonded over the fact they were both orphans. And then, to find her name in Matthias Shaw’s report of all places. In his astonishment, Anduin had learned of her involvement to rid Kul Tiras of Lady Ashvane and freeing Jaina from the clutches of the being known as Gorak Tul.

Shortly after that, a letter arrived from Jaina, now Lord Admiral, that bore the identity of the Horde commander who had been leading the assaults: Casimir Davinière. Daelin Proudmoore’s personal tidesage and confidante. The Forsaken’s name had turned up previously in conversation with Archbishop Faol, as well as details of his repugnant deeds that led to his expulsion from the Conclave. His offenses were abhorrent enough to cause the priest to fall into a furious silence.

A large thump and a pained, animalistic cry near one of the windows pulled Anduin from his reverie. With a sigh, he replaced the drawing between two books that lay on the table and rose to his feet to see about the commotion outside. He pulled the heavy drapery to the side and looked out upon the events unfolding in the courtyard below.

A wounded gryphon let out screech of pain as a dwarf sought to pull arrows from the gryphon’s wings and exposed underside. The animal shuddered with each arrow that was pulled from its belly. A crowd had gathered around the commotion, uncertain how to give aid to the poor beast or save its wounded rider. A cool, uncompromising soprano voice that brooked no nonsense rang out over the yard and the crowd scattered like children who had been caught at mischief.

Anduin’s heart lurched in his chest when he noticed the woman and her crown of golden hair that rushed towards Tandred Proudmoore as the man darted in next to dwarven gryphon handler when it was safe to do so, quickly lifting the gnome rider off of the wounded beast’s back. The dwarf continued to pull arrows from the weakly thrashing gryphon.

Hair as golden as his own. Golden as Lady Corbray’s. _Light! Could it be her?_ His thoughts raced furiously.

Just before he could reach for his heavy coat, he caught a glimpse of small trickles of water that began to swirl around the woman. He continued to watch as the streams coalesced into a single spray of water that then doused the gryphon with its healing properties. The blood was washed away and its flesh was knitted together as the flow of water continued to bathe the animal. It’s thrashing quickly ceased and the dwarven handler sought to calm the gryphon.

The young king watched with mounting concern as Tandred held the unconscious gnome carefully in his arms. The woman finished her work on the beast and turned her attention to the gnome while conversing with Tandred. Anduin could not make out what they were talking about from this distance. However, he did catch a glimpse of the profile of the woman. Her nose was perfectly straight and not at all as captured in the drawn portrait from Valeera. He continued to stare until she seemed to sense that someone’s gaze was upon her and turned around to find out who. Anduin caught a brief look of her face as he hastily dropped the curtain down. Before the heavy fabric fell back into place, Anduin could have sworn he glimpsed Mathias Shaw lingering in the shadows of a smaller building.

 

 

Damara watched the partially-concealed figure retreat from the window before the curtain fell back into place and completely obscured her view. She was pulled back into focus by Tandred asking her questions at a rapid-fire pace. “Tandred, quiet please. Bring our small friend into the servant’s quarters. There should be an extra bed and I can attend to her injuries in quiet,” she requested, not unkindly.

Before either could move in the direction Damara had indicated, Matthias Shaw emerged from the shadows. In a slow and controlled voice, he said. “I need to speak with Kelsey ...”

Damara gave the spymaster a brief look of the upmost sympathy as she checked the gnome’s pulse. She said softly but evenly, “Master Shaw. As soon as Kelsey has awakened, I will send for you.”

“Asherat.” The red-haired spymaster stammered, then cleared his throat. “She could be in danger.”

The young woman gave Tandred a sharp look and jerked her head in the direction of the door. Once he was out of earshot, Damara turned to Shaw and gave him her most reassuring smile. “The Lady Darkstar has proven herself to be a steadfast ally to Kul Tiras and is more than capable of handling herself out in the field. I am confident that she will return after the Horde is disposed of. As for Kelsey, her wounds are not life-threatening. She will be on the mend after I have seen to her injuries.”

Mathias Shaw stared into her grey eyes for a moment then dissolved back into the shadows from which he came. Damara frowned at the empty space that the spy master had just occupied and then turned to enter the estate house.

 

Captain Tandred Proudmoore was unceremoniously hustled out of the room by his foster sister who had also once been his betrothed. “I need to focus, and you’re just in the way,” she said with a smile, shutting the door on him as she went to the task of restoring the vitality of the wounded gnome. He backed away from the closed door and began his walk to King Wrynn’s study for a brief chat, reminiscing along the way.

Lady Damara Davinière had been taken in by Lady Katherine Proudmoore as her ward after the disastrous defeat of Tandred’s father and Katherine’s husband, Daelin Proudmoore. That battle had claimed the lives of many courageous Kul Tirans as well as Damara’s father, Casimir Davinière. The man had been a legendary tidesage known for his piety and devotion to the sea as well as his power to command the winds and waves against the enemies of Kul Tiras. He was also a friend and confidant to the Proudmoores. It was because of this connection and the guilt from Jaina’s part in Brother Davinière’s death that Tandred’s mother raised the girl. Though, he had suspected it more to do with Damara's passing resemblance to Jaina as a child.

As Damara grew older, Tandred hadn’t failed to notice her transformation from child to woman. Lady Katherine had caught the pair of them exchanging glances which left the younger woman blushing more than once. His mother had thought he and Damara were developing feelings for each other and decided to arrange a betrothal between them. Then, Tandred had been lost at sea and presumed dead which had broken their engagement and left Damara free to take another husband. Priscilla Ashvane wasted no time - after the socially acceptable minimum length of mourning was over, of course - in seeking a match between the young woman and Lady Ashvane’s nephew and heir, Lord Jerald Ashvane.

Tandred had always thought the Ashvane heir to be slovenly, spineless, and entirely far too dependent upon his aunt; he had dubbed the unfortunate young man Lord Pig because of his close resemblance to one. Now that he thought about it, Priscilla Ashvane was also uncannily porcine, right down to the double chins and jowls.

Jerald Ashvane had attempted to press the issue of his betrothal to Damara when Tandred had miraculously returned home unharmed. By this time, Jerald's aunt had been unmasked as a traitor and Lord Pig had become the new Lord Ashvane. Tandred had been prepared to wed his foster sister first in the event of Jerald's and Damara's betrothal being enforced. Thank the tides - and the question of Lord Pig's knowledge of his aunt's shady activities - Lady Proudmoore hadn't forced Damara into marriage with Lord Pig. The girl clearly had no wish to be joined to Lord Ashvane.

Unfortunately, Lord Pig was currently in attendance here at the Norwington Estate. Tandred really didn't like having the other man around.

Anduin, the Proudmoore’s royal guest, had cited a need for relaxation and quiet and had forgone Lord Norwington’s afternoon hunt. Genn Greymane, king of the uprooted Gilnean people and advisor to King Wrynn, had raised quite the protest when Anduin had given the order for his royal guard to enjoy a brief respite from their duties. A compromise had been reached in which Spymaster Shaw and his best agents would remain to guard Anduin.

Lady Katherine Proudmoore had contributed gryphon riders from the Proudmoore Admiralty. The graceful beasts and the men on their backs circled in the sky as S-I7 agents silently stalked the halls of the house and the perimeter of the grounds.

Tandred paused outside a door that was slightly ajar and softly rapped his knuckles against the dark wood. He only had to wait a moment before being admitted into the presence of the King of Stormwind. In a firm yet gentle voice, Anduin gave the command that gave the youngest Proudmoore an audience and simultaneously dismissed the guards to enjoy the afternoon. With the dismissal, King Wrynn added that they were not to be disturbed.

Tandred bowed formally at the waist and gave his greetings. “Your Majesty.”

Anduin stepped away from the window and towards his previously occupied chair, extending his hand welcomingly to his guest as he did so. The young king smiled warmly while giving Tandred an indication that he could be seated in his presence.

“We are most fortunate and much relieved to have you and the crews under your command returned safe and sound. Is there any way the Alliance may be of service to you or your people?” Anduin asked.

“Actually, I was coming to see if I might be of service to you and see to your needs. I did notice that you were not join the Lord Norwington’s hunt this afternoon.”

The younger man gave a small smile and motioned again for Tandred to be seated. “I do thank you for the hospitality of Lord Norwington and your family, but I am well enough. I look forward to renewing the bonds of friendship that once tied our two nations together.” Anduin walked to a small table that held a decanter of Peaked Dalaran Red. It was the king’s favorite vintage. This particular cask had been sent by the dragon Kalecgos, his friend and the former Aspect of Magic. He poured himself a glass and began to offer the older man one, but Tandred held up his hand as an indication that he did not wish to partake. “I am curious about that happened out in the courtyard this afternoon.”

Tandred looked over at the mostly-closed curtains. Shafts of sunshine shone through every gap in the fabric and bathed the room in the light of the setting sun. “Another gryphon returning from Zandalar, Majesty.”

“Please, call me Anduin,” the king offered, before diving into the heart of the matter, “Can you tell me... is the gnome alive?”

“Damara... I mean Lady Davinière... has taken care of our diminutive friend. Your spymaster Shaw was just arriving to speak with his operative as I was leaving.”

Anduin took a sip of his wine, then asked, “So that was Damara?”

“Our one and only.” Tandred caught a glimpse of the sketch with the girl bulbous nose and burst out into laughter. “Your Maj... Anduin, where in the tides did you get that!?”

The king turned quickly and almost spilled his wine all over himself in confusion. “Get what? I am afraid I don’t understand.”

With a flourish and grin, Tandred pulled the picture from between the two books. “This is Damara, but I am afraid you’ve got her nose wrong. Quite frankly, she’d be aghast, especially if she knew you’d been carrying this around.” Tandred regarded the drawing once more and tried to contain his laughter at Anduin’s bewildered look. “It certainly is a fair representation, except for the nose....” He was interrupted by a thunderous crash that echoed throughout the nearly empty estate house. Then came the heavy thuds of boots upon the wooden floor and a loud bellow calling out his name.

“Proudmoore! PROUDMOOORRREE!” Echoed through the corridors.

“Tides take me! What is Lord Pig doing here?” Tandred swore so loudly that Anduin arched his brows in surprise at the colorful language. The youngest Proudmoore turned crimson at the unspoken reprimand. “He’s a damn bloody nuisance, demanding what he thinks is his...”

“PROUDMOOOOREEEE!” The howl was closer and louder.

Tandred jumped to his feet and hastily made his way into the narrow hallway with the King of Stormwind following closely behind. They were greeted by the sight of an obese man garishly dressed in a fashion similar to that of his deposed aunt. Tandred scowled in disgust as the new Lord Ashvane stumbled towards him, huffing and puffing. Spittle trickled down the side of the man’s mouth.

“Proudmoore...” Lord Pig leaned against the wall and struggled to breathe. “You have to stop her! She’s a mad woman!”

“Stop who, my Lord Ashvane?” Tandred practically growled.

“Your accursed foster sister! Tidemother only knows what your mother was thinking in allowing that dark-skinned siren – that elf - around my fiancée! Damara tried to kill me! With a frying pan!” Lord Pig bent over and parted his greasy black hair to show Tandred the lump forming on his head.

Paying him no attention, Tandred resisted the urge to pummel the larger man. “Lady Davinière,” he emphasized her title, “would never strike without provocation! The real question is why you are harassing her and not out with the hunting party?”

Jerold caught sight of Anduin standing behind Tandred and turned a dark shade of red in rage. His jowls shook as he violently pointed a finger in the young king’s direction. “I’ve read all your correspondence. I’ll just bet Lady Proudmoore is dangling Damara in front of the dazzled boy-king here. No wonder she broke off our betrothal.”

Anduin stiffened at the insult but remained silent through the man’s diatribe. Spittle flew in all directions as more slurs and disparagement were thrown into the king’s face.

“How do you intend to make peace with the same black-bloods who murdered your father? Too weak to even avenge his murder! Must be that witch Jaina Proudmoore’s influence!”

Lord Ashvane lurched toward Anduin in an attempt to spit in his face, but instead, the fat man let out a loud gasp of pain when he fell flat upon his face.

Tandred Proudmoore rushed forward and dropped his full weight onto Lord Pig’s back, pinning the man to the ground and hissing under his breath. “You will issue an apology to his Majesty.” With a roar of rage Ashvane threw his head back and forcefully made contact with Tandred’s lower jaw. The blow stunned Tandred, and he rolled off of Jerold and onto the crimson-carpeted floor with a groan.

Anduin could barely contain his anger and disbelief at the scene that played out before him. Two adult males coming to blows over inane comments and insults. What made him truly furious was the revelation that this rejected suitor had taken it upon himself to read through years of private letters and belittle not only Anduin but also a person the young man cared about!

“Both of you, ENOUGH!” he bellowed.

Lord Ashvane had managed to haul his bulk to his feet and wheezed another jibe in Anduin’s direction. “So, the Little Lion does have himself a set of bollocks! You fancy yourself a big man then...” The far larger Kul Tiran towered over Anduin and was moving forward, winding up to deliver a painful blow to the king’s cheek. Before the punch could be thrown, Jerold’s face contorted in surprise and his body fell clumsily forward.

Anduin’s combat training helped him deftly avoid the falling man; he easily dodged to his left and watched Jerold meet the floor for the second time in mere minutes.

Almost as soon as Ashvane landed, he rolled over onto his back with a pained groan. “You damned wench!”

King Wrynn hadn’t yet taken the time to see who had knocked Lord Ashvane down, and before he could do so, the assailant moved around Jerold and into his line of sight.

Golden hair and silver metal competed for his attention as a feminine voice spoke sternly, “I think I would listen to what his Majesty said, if I were you.”

Damara stood threateningly over the fat man with a stormsilver frying pan held inches away from his face.

“I wouldn’t have you if that Proudmoore witch begged me!” Jerold’s jowls quivered with the fear that could be heard in his attempt at bravado.

Storm clouds gathered in narrowed gray eyes as the woman tapped the edge of the pan under his nose. “I am most relieved that we have reached an accord then, my dear Lord Ashvane.” Damara began to circle him, picking up the hem of her white skirt as to not soil the fabric when she stepped over his arm.

Anduin moved towards where Tandred lay still, getting out of her way.

“I hope you understand the gravity of the situation you have placed yourself in. You’ve come into my uncle’s home spewing false slanders and allegations. Then, you have the audacity to attack a guest under his roof, and not just any guest, but the King of Stormwind himself. Consider yourself blessed by the tides that King Greymane is out on the hunt this afternoon, or you’d be a dead man.”

Lord Ashvane wisely kept silent, though his face was still brightly flushed with indignation.

Damara continued her circle. “I am well within my rights to see you to Tol Dagor to wait upon the Lord Admiral’s pleasure. I am not, however, the aggrieved party in this matter.” She fixed her gray-eyed gaze on Anduin. “Majesty. What do you wish to do with Lord Ashvane?”

Anduin relaxed and let go of his own anger at her question. “Confine the lord to his quarters and let the Lord Admiral deal with him as she sees fit. There has been enough violence for one afternoon.”

Damara bowed her head in acquiesce and motioned over the Norwington guards that had assembled during the commotion. “Please see Lord Ashvane to his quarters and post a guard to see that he remains there until the Lord Admiral returns. Also, please request Sister Dionara come in all haste to see to his injuries.”

Jerold made a futile attempt to fight his restraints as he was escorted towards his guest quarters. He continued to hurl insults until he was out of view and range to be heard.

Once he was gone, Damara and Anduin turned from looking at the corner Lord Ashvane had disappeared around and faced each other. A few moments of awkward silence followed before Damara clumsily tried to reach behind her to find a place to put the frying pan she had been wielding. She winced as it missed the shelf, she was aiming for in one of the hallway’s inset curio displays and fell to the floor with a loud crash.

Flashing a bashful smile, she fought to maintain her composure. “Not exactly how I had envisioned us meeting for the first time.”

A cheerful grin spread across Anduin’s face as he replied, “Nor I.” As he said those words, it sank in who exactly he was talking to, and the nerves he hadn’t yet had time to feel rushed forward. His grin faded a bit. He couldn’t think of anything else to add. Light, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her.

Lady Davinière looked equally dumbstruck as the two stared into each other’s eyes.

Anduin finally found his voice again and used the first thing that popped into his mind to deflect from himself. “What are we going to do with Captain Proudmoore?”

“Oh? OH! Tandred!” Damara tucked a few strands of golden hair behind her ear and looked down at the semi-conscious brother of the Lord Admiral, splayed out like a ragdoll.

The two healers moved at once. While attempting to fill the same space at Tandred’s side at the same time, all they succeeded in doing was bumping into each other and bouncing apart. The pair locked eyes while waiting to see who would move first.

A vivid blush spread across Damara’s cheeks a split-second after Anduin felt his own face warm. He dropped his gaze back to Tandred and could see no trauma except for his swelling jaw. “Perhaps we should take him back to my rooms, where we can give him a more thorough examination?” Damara nodded her approval. Together they lifted Tandred between them and half dragged him back to the young king’s study.


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken them more than ten minutes to carry Tandred back to the study. Damara was a slender woman of average height and was not used to moving unconscious princes. She had almost caused all three of them to stumble gracelessly to the floor with her legs getting tangled in her long skirt and Tandred’s weight. Anduin had taken it upon himself to carry him the rest of the way, while Damara had rushed ahead to hold open the door. After Tandred was settled on the couch, Damara had placed pillows to support his head and his feet. Anduin had brought new life to the fire that had been smoldering in the fireplace. He silently rubbed his sore shoulder and sat on the edge of the desk to watch Damara attended to her patient. 

Instead of the torrent of healing tides that Anduin had witnessed earlier in the courtyard, a small trickle of water materialized in her hand. He watched fascinated not only with the woman but with her gentle technique. Damara focused all of her concentration on probing Tandred for internal trauma. She whispered something intelligible and carefully traced her wet fingers over the other man’s brow, being careful not to soak the couch. 

Anduin had lost track of how long he had been sitting there watching Damara work her healing magic on Tandred, but the sound of her saying his name pulled him back to reality. Taking a moment to compose himself under her grey-eyed gaze, Anduin asked, “Tandred, I mean...Captain Proudmoore... is not seriously injured?” 

“His head is stronger than tidesage-blessed stormsteel. He will survive a lump or two. When he wakes up, he will have quite the headache.” Damara gave him a small wink, which caused Anduin to redden some more. “His pride has taken quite the bruising.” 

The smile faded from Anduin’s face as he grew serious. “Kelsey Steelspark?” 

“Exhaustion. Kelsey just needs some rest and relaxation.” She frowned. “Swiftwing will require a longer rehabilitation, though he's been tide-blessed with Boss Tak and the some of the Roughnecks being present at Norwington.” 

Anduin brightened at the news as he recalled the Roughnecks who had been mentioned in the reports that Mathias Shaw had sent. They were a group of humans lead by Boss Tak, a Wildhammer dwarf and the only survivor of Clan Doyle. Lord Norwington had taken quite a shine to the Roughnecks after they had saved his son and heir, Eddie Norwington, from one of his many misadventures. 

After the events of the past hours, Anduin felt the sudden need to refresh his glass of wine. When he stepped away from his perch on the edge of the desk, the picture that Tandred had been brandishing around tumbled to the ground. 

Damara knelt to pick up the sketch and unsuccessfully tried to keep her laughter quiet. “Seems Valeera couldn’t get my nose right after all.” 

Anduin was startled when he heard the sound of her voice and peered back over his shoulder. Damara’s face was hidden by the sketch but her eyes bright with amusement as they peeked over the top. Anduin set the decanter down with trembling hands and willed himself to composure. “Valeera sketched that with your knowledge?” 

“Of course, I must have sat for hours while she struggled with my nose.” She replaced the picture on the desk went to Anduin. Damara placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and her grey eyes met his blue ones. “You are not the only nervous one. It’s not every day that you meet the person who’ve been pouring your heart out to, let alone a king.” 

He stuttered over his words. “You are nervous too? You aren’t... Tandred said...” 

Damara glanced at the snoring man. “That prancing jackanapes says many things that he should not. There is something I should show you.” 

She stepped away from Anduin and glided across the room with her skirt trailing behind her like a billowing cloud, and stopped before an ornate shelf built into the wall. The tentacles that were typical to Kul Tiran craftsmanship decorated the shelves. She pulled down a large chest of light golden wood with no ornamentation and placed it upon the table that sat before the couch Anduin had moved to occupy. 

“My uncle risked his life to retrieve this after I was forced to flee Boralus during Lady Ashvane’s attempted coup. He knew how much it meant to me.” She did not immediately open it but looked directly at him. “You are not the only one to have kept such treasures.”  
When she sat down next to him, Anduin was surprised that he began to allow himself to relax. Damara moved to open the chest, and he leaned intently to see the contents that meant so much to her. The first thing she withdrew was a stack of neatly folded letters bound in blue ribbon. After untying the binding, she unfolded the first letter to reveal the stationary of the former Crown Prince of Stormwind. The paper was worn from continuous handling, but the golden scrollwork and lions remained intact, as did his seal. “I kept them all.” 

Anduin took the letter from her hand, and a flood of memories washed over him. He asked in a quiet voice. “All of them?” 

“Every last one, as well as the mementos you sent,” Damara answered gently. He placed the letter to the side and watched her remove two more familiar items. The journal he had kept while convalescing in Pandaria from the traumatic injuries inflicted upon him by when the Divine Bell shattered and broken his body. It was a simple design of brown leather but of excellent craftsmanship. Anduin had kept the journal after he had lost the other when the Vanguard had run aground in the Jade Forest. The second was the bright red plumage that had been a gift from Chi-Ji, the Red Crane and mentor to Anduin. 

“It amazes me that you kept all of this,” he whispered in astonishment, as he ran his fingers reverently over the feather from the August Celestial. 

“Why?” Damara looked him directly in eyes and Anduin looked away with a faint blush. 

“It’s just a bunch of letters, an old journal, and a feather.” 

“To anyone else maybe, but not to me.” Damara paused for a moment and nodded towards the sketch between the pair of books. “There is no shame in caring for someone you’ve opened yourself too. No shame in keeping a part of them close.” 

“You... care for me?” Such a revelation was stunning to him. 

Damara lips quirked into a smile that expressed the mirth in her eyes. “Of course. I will not deny it.” 

Anduin’s eyes met her steady but gentle gaze, and he felt his lingering nervousness and unease wash away. He smiled in return and reached into the chest for the remaining items. What he pulled out nearly caused his heart to burst with sorrow. His eyes glassed over with unshed tears and his hands trembled around the letter he had written months ago. Another message of condolence for yet another hero lost to the Legion. He had struggled to keep his voice steady. “You kept this.” 

Anduin took Damara’s hand that had just wiped the moisture from his eyes and placed a kiss of appreciation upon the back of it. “I am most thankful that you and your uncle kept the letter safe. “ 

A cough sounded from the other side of the room, causing them to jump, almost bumping heads in their surprise. They had forgotten Tandred, and clearly, he had awakened. He lay there, a smug look on his features, and said, “Oh, don’t mind me....” Puckering his lips, Tandred started making smooching sounds to imitate a kiss. 

His teasing caused Damara to snort in most unladylike displeasure. Anduin rose to his feet and bowed formally at the waist. He made a point to ignore Tandred’s jibe when he kissed the back of Damara’s hand again, in a manner befitting a gentleman. “Would you do me the pleasure of joining me for the evening meal in a few hours?” 

She brightened at the invitation. “I would be happy to.” 

He had also perked up considerably at seeing her reaction to his invitation. “I must speak to Master Shaw, but I will see you soon after. Please excuse me, my lady,” he then swept her a bow on his way out of the room, ignoring Tandred’s continued laughter. 

Watching their royal guest depart, Damara bent to gather her treasures and store them back the chest. After returning the chest to the shelf, she grabbed a pillow from the nearest couch and threw it at Tandred. He caught it in midair and tucked it behind his head. “I should go give thanks to the Tidemother that I did not marry such a buffoon as yourself.” 

Tandred gave her a wide grin. “A fine Lady Ashvane you would have made, dear Damara.” 

“That would have been an improvement over being your Lady Proudmoore,” she shot back and left him alone. With a chuckle, Tandred rolled over and went back to sleep. 

He woke sometime later. Despite the green pillow, he covered his eyes with, Tandred knew the moment Sister Whent entered the study. He groaned inwardly and had resolved to pretend that he was still unconscious rather than face the tidesage. There was no doubt in his mind even the Warchief of the Horde would have surrendered unconditionally rather than face the fury of this particular redoubtable matron. Suddenly there was a tug at his pillow. Instinctively, Tandred’s hands shot up to grasp it, but there was nothing save him from the glowering face of Sister Dionara Whent. 

“Tides take me! What do you want you horrible, horrible woman?” 

“Tandred Proudmoore, I should have known that you would be loafing around at a time like this!” She started to beat him about the head with such ferocity the pillow ripped, and feathers flew wildly around the room. 

“What in the bloody tides are you going on about!?” Tandred struggled to spit out a feather. 

The woman grabbed another pillow as Dionara commenced to beat him again. “Damara! She has gone missing! So is that no-good sod, Lord Ashvane!” 

"Mind the head you briny sea hag! Lord Swine nailed me in the jaw with that fat head of his!" Tandred snatched the pillow from her grasp. “Now repeat what you said, slowly!” 

The tidesage’s complexion turned as red. Her voice was chillier than a winter night in Tiragarde Sound. “I know you are daft, Proudmoore, but pull the seaweed from between your ears and listen. She’s gone. Missing. Along with Lord Ashvane! I witnessed the pair of them crossing the courtyard to the Boralus portal!” 

“Bloody tides! Tide forsaken bastard must have taken her!” Tandred cursed. With a loud groan, he sat up slowly and hoped the room did not start to spin. 

“Watch your language, Proudmoore” Three Sister Dionaras scowled down at him with arms crossed over her chest. Her judgment of Tandred was interrupted when the door swung open to allow the entry of Master Shaw and Anduin. Her grey eyes narrowed on the spymaster who stopped to meet her glare and placed a hand on one of his dagger handles. The tidesage gave a distasteful snort and pushed her way past the spymaster and the royal guest then out of the room. 

Shaw and Tandred shared a knowing look before shaking their heads. Anduin watched the retreating woman with bewilderment, then regarded his companions. “Would one of you be so kind as to tell me what that was all about?” 

The spymaster remained ominously silent. Tandred leaned forward with hands over his face and jerked his head towards the direction the woman had left in. “That is any man’s worst nightmare, and I have yet to discern why Damara is so damned fond of that witch.” 

Anduin gave a faint smile and asked. “Speaking of Damara, I haven’t seen her. Dinner is to be served soon.” 

Tandred rose weakly to his feet but just pitched forward on his unsteady legs and crashed spectacularly to the hardwood floor. He groaned from the pain exploding in his skull. “Damn bloody Ashvane made off with her!” 

With an exasperated sigh, Mathias Shaw hoisted the man roughly back into a sitting position on the couch. He was still exceptionally annoyed with Captain Proudmoore’s inability to control his wandering eyes. The master assassin was startled by the low growl that came from his king’s throat. “He made off with her and escaped through the portal back to Boralus, or so the good sister relayed to me.” Tandred continued between groans. 

Anduin having lost his patience with the man, turned to Master Shaw. Not missing a breath, the spymaster said. “Captain Fairwind. If we could locate him, he might be able to help with our search.” 

“Any idea where this Captain Fairwind might be located?” 

Matthias tried to mask the vexation in his face. “Dampwick Ward most likely. Full of criminals, Ashvane loyalists, and tidesage doomsayers.” 

“Spymaster, I am hereby ordering you to gather your best operatives and head into the city to find this Captain Fairwind” The ginger-headed man started to protest, but Anduin held up his hand for silence. “I will be perfectly safe, just attend to your orders.” 

He watched Shaw leave in silent protest to carry his assignment. Anduin rushed into the adjoining bedroom to prepare for his own mission. He returned a few moments later, donning simple brown garb and a cloak to blend in with crowds. 

Tandred lifted his head. “You are going after her, aren’t you?” 

Anduin gave him a cool look. “Of course, I am going after her.” 

“You realize what Greymane and my sister are going to do to me if one hair on your golden head is out of place?” 

“Captain Proudmoore, I have no time to waste. You will be accompanying me to Boralus.” A shiny brilliance appeared in his hands, which he placed upon the other man’s head, and bathed Tandred Proudmoore in the Light’s healing energies. 

Despite feeling reinvigorated, Tandred did not make any sudden movements. He sat there contemplating if he should reveal his little secret. “There is one place Captain Fairwind frequents when he is not at the Snug Harbor....” 

"And yet you failed to mention this to Master Shaw before he left on his mission. Why?” Anduin’s voice became cold and distant.” 

“Partly because you sent him off too quickly, but mostly because it’s a brothel.” Tandred sat there feeling chagrined at his next revelation. “It’s called the Kelp Club...” 

“And you are a frequent patron of this establishment?” 

“I’ve been known to visit it...” He muttered. 

Anduin eyed him dubiously, and then without a word, shoved Tandred’s weapons, tricorn, and personal effects into his lap. 

“Mind the hat!” he growled at the retreating king as he defiantly placed it upon his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Mathias Shaw wiped the ginger hair from his eyes. It was soaked from the drizzle that fell from the night sky of Boralus. “Agent. Report.”  

He snapped and whirled around to look at his comrade in arms and one of his best operatives, Astaria Moonblade. She looked just as bedraggled and miserable as he did. Her normally perky purple ponytails fell limply around her face and her eyes dark from the Night Warrior ritual met his own. She shivered against the cold air as they huddled together.  

“Flynn..” Astaria tried to suppress a soft sigh. 

“Focus on the mission, Agent. Not your bedmate.” He growled.  

Astaria straightened up at the reprimand and finished giving her report. “Agent Corbray is following up on a lead that Flynn, I mean Captain Fairwind, was at brothel.” 

Shaw arched an eyebrow. That was the only inclination of his dislike for the  _ infamous  _ Captain Fairwind - the very last person he wanted to be chasing around the dark streets of the Dampwick Ward. He did have a small shred of respect for the former freebooter in that Fairwind knew how to take a hint and keep his eyes to himself. That was the extent of Shaw’s feelings of goodwill. It was Captain Fairwind’s constant carousing of the streets of Boralus that was currently keeping Mathias from dinner and a warm bath. Unconsciously, Shaw gripped the handle of one of his weapons, resolved in his decision to end Flynn Fairwind and dump his remains in one of the many waterways of Boralus.  

“Did Corbray happen to mention which one?” Shaw made a point of waving his hand at the numerous brothels that lined the dank street before them.  

“Negative, sir.” The night elf huddled under her cloak for warmth, though Shaw could have sworn he saw her shoulders sag. Though he was not sure if it was from the cold air or from the disappointment that Fairwind was up to his usual habits. 

A faint splashing sound drew his attention and only grew louder as Shaw honed in on the large brown blur barreling at him. He didn’t have the time to react due to Niall Corbray’ speed. The worgen slammed into the spymaster, who flew into the air and landed a few feet away with a loud splat and kept moving. Astaria wordlessly covered her mouth, daring not to make a sound as Shaw slide through the mud and came to rest against the wall of a brothel with a giant thud.  

“Corbray...” Shaw growled as he wiped the mud from his face.  

Niall came to a stop under a balcony and nervously shook the water from his fur, sending droplets of water flying into the air. He reached out a paw to help Shaw to his feet, but recoiled when his enhanced sense of smell caught a whiff of something foul clinging to the spymaster. Niall raised his lip in a snarl at the offensive odor. “Spymaster!” 

“Report...” Shaw continued , still trying to remove the traces of mud. 

“King Wrynn...” 

The mention of their king got Shaw’s full attention. “What about King Wrynn?” 

“He’s in Boralus with Captain Proudmoore. I saw them enter the Kelp Club together.” 

Mathias Shaw’s barely restrained control broke when he heard the name Proudmoore. “You mean to tell me that Proudmoore took the King of Stormwind into a brothel of all places?” Shaw would not put it past the mariner to drag the young king to a local brothel, though Anduin Wrynn was not the type of person to seek out carnal pleasure.  

Niall’s ears flattened against his head in contrition. “Affirmative, sir.” 

Astaria extended a hand to assist Shaw, but was warned away with a green glare. After getting back to his feet, Shaw began to clean the mud from his leathers. He made a mental note to toss them into the fire after returning to the  _ Wind’s Redemption.  _ There was no miracle on Azeroth that could save them from the smells of fish and shit smears. 

“Corbray, lead the way. If you think you can get us there without any more accidents...” 

“Yes, sir, but...” Niall whined low in his throat. His voice was muffled by the dark handkerchief pressed over his snout. 

“But what, Agent?” Shaw growled.  

“Stay downwind from me, sir.” 

Anduin pulled the cloak around his body to shield himself from the cold drizzle and to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He had a difficult time matching Tandred’s long strides as they weaved through the crowded streets of the Dampwick Ward. More than once, Anduin was almost ploughed over by a large, looming, angry Kul Tiran. He fought the urge to excuse his poor manners and chose instead to keep his head down. Anduin failed to notice that Captain Proudmoore came to a halt and almost slammed into the older man.  

A bouncer, the largest Kul Tiran Anduin had seen that night, barred their entrance. He was dressed in a motley assortment of garish fabrics and wicked tattoos ran up his burly arms. He looked down at the pair. “You seem a bit fancy for these parts. What be your business?” 

Tandred leaned in close and whispered. “My young friend here has never known the touch or taste of a woman, sir.” He waved a hand in Anduin's direction, then offered a charming smile. “You understand, time to make a man out of the young lad.” 

The bouncer crossed his arms over his massive chest and spit of bit of dark liquid from the corner of his mouth. He gazed down, his brows mashing together, a sneer forming on his lips. “Your friend is considerably prettier than the damn whores here. Maybe I should take him off your hands for the evening? Could make a bit of coin for us both.” 

Anduin met the burly man’s gaze and took control of his mind with little effort. His voice was soft yet resolute. “Sir, I am in a hurry and I must insist that you allow us to pass.” 

The bouncer’s eyes blinked rapidly in confusion, then widened. “Eh? Of course, young sir. You are free to go as you please.” 

“My thanks, sir.” Anduin gave a gracious smile and walked past the bouncer.  

Tandred stammered in amazement. “What did you do?” 

“Only what I needed to, Captain.” Anduin paused to give him a thoughtful look. “You would do well not to underestimate me.”  

He did not wait on Tandred’s response and walked through the large double doors into the Kelp Club. Decrepit furniture, including a couch – stained with Light knew what – was strewn about the foyer. The patrons, attired in clothing just as garish as their surroundings, stumbled around in various stages of undress while others fell where they stood from inebriation. The smell of perfume mixed with sweat and other bodily fluids almost made Anduin gag.   

A pair of buxom women spotted them from the rabble of people. Anduin noticed their cleavage almost spilled over their corsets and out of their open shirts, leaving little to the imagination. From his cheeks to his ears, he blushed a bright red.  

The petite brunette looked between the king and the captain, hands on her hips.  She purred in appreciation as she eyed Anduin up and down. “Well, Captain Proudmoore, what did you bring me this time?”  

“Anarietta! Darling!” Tandred removed his hat with a gallant flourish and situated himself between the king and his female  _ friends _ . Thrusting his tricorn onto Anduin’s chest he whispered, “Don’t lose the hat.” 

The smile melted from the brunette’s face. “Anarietta? My name is Jezebel!” 

The second woman, a blonde, snapped. “I am Anarietta, you bloody bloke!”

Tandred Proudmoore ducked out of the way from Anarietta’s slap, but his cheek burned from a blow from Triss. He brought his hands up. “Ladies! Ladies! My loves!”  

“LOVES!?” The pair screeched in unison. The prostitutes began to advance upon Tandred with their fingers curled into claws, ready to scratch his eyes out. He retreated until he bumped into the delipidated bar and looked up.  

“Ello, love!” A third prostitute gave a wide gap-toothed grin.  

“Mathilda!” He gestured towards the still advancing twosome. “Mind giving me a hand darling?” 

Her grin evaporated. “Name isn’t bloody Matilda,  _ darling _ .” The third prostitute brought a large jug of Kul Tiran Tripel crashing down upon Tandred’s head. “Now sod off, you sordid wanker!” 

For the second time that day, Anduin watched Captain Proudmoore fall unconscious to the ground. He ducked to avoid being hit by an empty bottle of Anchor Drop that was flung in his direction which then hit  _ Mathilda _ in the face. Anduin winced as he watched her collapse behind the bar with the loud thud. For a moment, he debated if it would be easier to use the Light to heal Captain Proudmoore. However, he saw a face across the room that was all too familiar from Master Shaw’s reports, and his plan changed. He sighed with regret at having to leave Tandred lying sprawled out on the filthy floor while he pulled the fallen Proudmoore behind the bar to a place a safety.  

Captain Flynn Fairwind sat with a male night elf that Anduin did not recognize, and before them lay steins and bottles of various shapes and sizes. The king was forced to dodge flying drinkware and even a skinny Kul Tiran who was hurled across the room as he wove his way through the rowdy crowd.  

“Captain Fairwind?” Anduin politely inquired, setting the hat he had been clutching on the table.  

The duo looked up at him in unison, both of them sporting beer moustaches. The red-haired human let out a loud belch and waved his half empty stein around, sending some of the ale sloshing onto the table. “The  _ Infamous _ Captain Fairwind, at your service.” 

Anduin didn’t look impressed but maintained his courteous discourse. “Sir, I need your help on a most urgent matter.” 

“Mate, nothing is more important than showing my friend, Mally, here who can hold his liquor.” Flynn gave his kaldorei elf comrade a punch to the shoulder, almost knocking him over.  

“Captain Fairwind! This is a matter of life and death for a mutual friend of ours!” Anduin kept his voice low as not to draw attention to himself. 

Flynn took a long sip of his ale and tossed the empty stein over his shoulder. “You are far too pretty to be friends with anyone I associate with. Ah! Mally, prepare to be beaten!” 

A barmaid pushed past Anduin and set numerous steins of alcohol before the human and his drinking buddy. “Mind yourself boys! No pauses, no spills and no regurgitation!"  

Flynn nabbed one of the drinks from the barmaid’s hand and flashed his deviously charming grin. “Don’t worry, I never spill.” 

Anduin withdrew a small velvet pouch emblazoned with the crest of Stormwind and dropped it onto the table before the former freebooter with a loud clink from the coins. Master Shaw had mentioned that Captain Fairwind’s interests would coincide with Anduin’s, just as long as he got paid. He murmured to the two inebriated men, “Now do I have your attention?” 

Flynn took a long sip of ale and fiddled with the pouch until the glitter of gold could be seen within its dark folds. “Aye, I’m all ears.” 

“Good, I am glad we are in agreement then, Captain.”  

Quickly pocketing the pouch, Flynn leaned the chair backwards and grabbed another mug filled to the brim with ale. “So, who's our mutual friend?” 

“Lady Damara...” Anduin’s eyebrows shot up as the scoundrel roared with laughter and shook so hard that his chair fell over backward, taking the now _ respectable _ Captain Fairwind with it.  

“Mate, if your intent is to woo  _ said  _ strumpet, I’d advise against it. Damara guards what’s up her skirts like it’s the most precious trinket from the Zandalari treasury.” Flynn fumbled with the chair, trying to right it, but only succeeded in sending it skittering across the floor. Mally reached out to offer him a hand up, which Flynn gratefully accepted while trying to stand.  

“I would kindly ask you not to refer to the lady in such vulgar terms.” Anduin’s blue eyes narrowed at Flynn.  

“Just telling you, mate, for your own good. A little bird told me that your lady love is betrothed to some golden lion.” 

Anduin didn’t deign to give the rogue a response. 

"I'm sure a strapping lad like you can find some other wanton harlot about." Flynn waved his free hand. "That one's off limits." 

The young man sighed, trying to maintain a civil composure. "Listen, it's important..." 

Flynn guffawed. "How important can one broad be, mate? Look." He grew serious and narrowed his eyes. "I'm trying to tell you, for your own good. The girl's got someone. I've heard the rumors. Some pretty boy rich bitch, or some such rot. Oi, Mally, what was the sod's name again?" 

“Anduin Wrynn,” the young man replied before the elf could, keeping his voice neutral. 

“Yes, that’s the poor bastard’s name.” Flynn made a face and waved his mug towards the comatose form of Captain Proudmoore behind the bar. “I mean, look at  _ him _ , he was once engaged to the wench. She’ll either suck the life out of the boy or beat him bloody senseless with a frying pan.” 

“Captain Fairwind, now is not the time!” Anduin exclaimed. 

Flynn’s response was to pop open the cork on a bottle Hook Point Porter and took a sniff. He offered the bottle to Anduin. “Smells bad, tastes worse, mate.” 

Anduin yanked the bottle from Flynn’s hand and passed it off to someone he couldn’t see behind him. “I said, now is not the time, Captain Fairwind.” 

Mally belched and said to his friend, “Oi, ya daft bastard, don't ya know who you're talking to?” 

Fairwind nabbed another bottle of Hook Point Porter and pulled the cork out with his teeth. “A lovesick golden calf...”  

The realization hit Flynn at the same time Mally’s fist connected with his jaw. “Oi, bloody booze has done pickled your brain, Fairwind.” 

Flynn toppled to the floor and stared dumbly as his drunk brain processed this. Anduin just stared deadpan at him while Mally plopped down in Flynn's seat.  

"Don't mind him your--" He belched. "Urp, your majesty. He's dafter than a donkey. Couldn't even win our drinking game, ha!" 

“Shouldn’t you be a bit more magnificent, fierce, and huge-ish?” Fairwind said from the floor. 

“That would be my  _ father  _ you are referring too.” Anduin said in a frosty voice.  

Flynn gave a devilish grin - or he might've thought it a devilish grin, but in his inebriated state, it looked more amusing than anything.  

"Well, piss in my mug and call it ale, I didn’t even know what you look like!" Flynn said, somehow getting to his feet. "How's about a toast, your majesty?" 

"Er, no," Anduin said, "that isn't--" 

Flynn ignored the protest and bellowed. "Piss on you all, a toast!" The people closest to the table turned upon towards Anduin and the unbalanced Captain Fairwind. “You drunken sots heard me! A toast! To the King of Stormwind’s upcoming marri-age to our  _ beloved _ Lady Vaasa.” 

The spymaster watched from across the brothel in absolute horror at the spectacle that the scoundrel was encouraging. Shaw ground his teeth at the sight of the flamboyant drunkard sloshing ale out of his mug. He also noticed the absence of Captain Proudmoore. 

“Corbray!” Shaw snapped. 

“Yes sir?” Niall’s voice was muffled by his coat sleeve across his face. He'd retaken his human form again before they had entered the Kelp Club to better blend in. 

Shaw gave his operative a hard, stony glance. “Find that halfwit brother of the Lord Admiral’s and make sure he's safe.” 

The spymaster didn’t spare Corbray a second glance as the operative tried, unsuccessfully, not to gag. Not because of Shaw’s pungent smell, but from the odors emanating from the tightly packed crowd. Niall disappeared into the throng to begin the search for Tandred Proudmoore. 

“Astaria you’re with me. Time to save our wayward sovereign before that idiot Fairwind gets him killed.”  

The pair of assassins slipped quietly through the mass of people.  

Through the crowd, he could observe an older woman shaking a balled fist at the now standing Flynn and jabbing a finger at Anduin. “You’ve lost your addled mind if you believe that horsepucky.  _ She _ is the only bloody noble that gave a care for us and our plight. We’ll be damned if we’ll be allowing the blasted Boralus nobility to send her away.” 

A broken bottle was tossed over Shaw’s head, and it shattered on the fireplace closest to the king. Then, a greasy plate flew through the air and whizzed by Flynn’s head. The scoundrel tried to move out of the flying disk’s path and toppled backwards, turning the table over with him.  

Anduin quickly ducked behind the overturned table just as a plate smashed against the fireplace mantle, nearly knocking down the giant, mounted shark’s head. The night elf stood his ground and threw punches at several large Kul Tiran males who dared to venture too close. The king called upon one of the most basic of priestly spells and placed a barrier around the elf. Anduin was rather impressed with Mally’s unrelenting endurance after consuming Light-knew-how-much alcohol. 

Flynn struggled to sit up. “Bloody tides take me.” 

Mally glanced over his shoulder quickly as he threw another vicious punch. “Oi, bloody fool! Yer trying to get us killed? Couldn’t keep yer bloody mouth shut could yah?” 

Fairwind’s only reply to his drinking buddy was to pop a cork on another bottle Hook Point Porter that had miraculously survived the table being overturned.  

Mally snorted something cheeky in his native language when Flynn began conversing with the shark head hanging over the fireplace. “Ello there beautiful...” 

The familiar sight of one of Master Shaw’s operatives struggling to help Captain Proudmoore caught Anduin’s attention briefly before another mug struck the table. He crouched low and yanked Flynn downward by the collar. 

Shaw silently moved through the ever-increasingly rowdy throng of drunk dockworkers, most of them being formally in the employment in the Ashvane Trading Company. He turned to give Astaria a hand signal only to see her struck by a meaty fist and disappear into the mass. Before Shaw could react, she popped back up and was hoisted over the head of the most massive Kul Tiran he had ever seen. Larger than even King Varian Wrynn. Astaria struggled unsuccessfully against the iron grip of the man, slowed by a concussion. With a loud grunt, the man tossed her like a rag doll through the air and she landed on Niall with a dull thud.  

He had to fight to not turn back for her, but Mathias Shaw had to press forward towards his rogue sovereign. Relief flooded through his normally detached heart when the familiar, brown fur of a worgen caught the spymaster's eye. The once again wolf-man cleared the space around himself, slashing with dangerous claws at the few people brave or stupid enough to get within his reach.  

Agent Corbray raised his muzzle into the air and howled in a challenge. His golden eyes met Shaw’s green ones and as he hoisted both Astaria and Tandred Proudmoore over his massive shoulders and rushed towards the exit.  

Turning his focus back to the mission of extracting King Wrynn to safety, Shaw almost stumbled over a pair of prostitutes: one blonde, the other brunette. He hoarsely whispered, “Ladies, pardon me.” 

Anarietta thrust her ample bosom into Shaw’s line of sight while she continued to bar his path. “You know that bloody wanker, Tandred?”  

Shaw groaned internally and began to gently move around the pair. “Ladies, I really do not have time.” 

Jezebel pressed herself against the spymaster and said in a pouty tone. “We just want you to pass along a message to Captain Proudmoore.” 

He had no chance to reply before he felt the sting of Anarietta’s hand across his face just as a foul-smelling liquid was poured over his head. Shaw winced as it seeped into his already atrociously scented leathers. 

“Ladies! Ladies!” Flynn called to the trio as he stumbled over. He flung an arm around the shoulders of each woman and wiggled his right index finger at Shaw. “This, my fine damsels, is the same bloody bloke I saved from that golden golem...monster...thing.”  

The blonde snuggled into the scoundrel’s side and gave the spymaster a smirk. “Lucky for you, Captain Fairwind was there.” 

Flynn belched in Shaw’s direction, and that was the end of his patience. Mathias grabbed the former pirate by the lapels of his worn and dirty coat, and the courtesans barely had time to disconnect themselves from Flynn. Jerking the smaller man close so their noses where almost touching, Shaw whispered in a coolly efficient and deadly tone. “I could kill you for that tasteless display.” 

The rogue made a disgusted face at the spymaster’s reek and made a vain attempt to wave away the offending odor.  “Mate, you fall into a latrine?”  

“I grow tired of your japes, Fairwind.” He growled. 

“Tides take me, you smell...”  

Shaw’s closed fist crashed onto Flynn’s nose with a most satisfying crunch. 

“Owww! What was that for!?” he howled in pain and held a hand across his bleeding and broken nose. 

Mathias started to reply as Anduin and his night elf companion emerged through the unruly crowd that was beginning to calm. Shaw wondered if his young monarch had something to with that miraculous feat.  

“Master Shaw!” Anduin’s cool voice cracked like a whip as he approached Flynn and pulled the man’s hands away from his face. He paused for a moment before addressing his spymaster, trying not to give any indication that he smelled the stench coming from Shaw. “I understand that Captain Fairwind can be extremely vexing, but that is not an excuse to resort to such violence.” The young king pulled a white linen handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into Flynn’s hand.  

“Oi! You lit fucker... you might be dumber than even me.” Mally chimed in with Anarietta and Jezebel on each arm. 

Flynn withdraw the blood-soaked handkerchief from his face. “You cheated!” 

“Oi! Pirate!” The elf belched back, focusing his attentions on his newfound companions for the night. “Tell me ladies, what you know of the Brawler’s Guild?” 

The trio made for the stairs that led to the lower level of the Kelp Club and then paused as Mally caught a foul odor in the air. He looked straight-faced at the spymaster. “Oooii! You’re rancid!” 

Shaw’s retort was interrupted as the doors of the Kelp Club burst open. Men and women wearing the raiment of the Proudmoore Admiralty, a golden anchor upon a field of green, spilled into the brothel.  

“Tides take me...” Flynn groaned at the sight of a gigantic man with silvered hair and beard.  

Anduin recognized Cyrus Crestfall, Harbormaster of Boralus, who had greeted him upon his arrival just a few days prior. Then, the very last person on Azeroth he expected to see entered the room 

Damara dragged the present current Lord Ashvane, Jerold, by the ear across the threshold. A fine sheen of sweat glazed the man’s heavy, quivering jowls.  

A bottle of wine that was unfamiliar to Anduin was pressed against his chest.  

“Best starting drinking mate. You are gonna need it.” Flynn said into the now red handkerchief.  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mally belongs to Tanadia4 on Twitter.


End file.
